what?” the man asked, looking from Raleigh to her.
“This lady is not a tutor, but a viscountess. My viscountess,” Raleigh said with a smile. “My lady, may I present Mr. Pimperington.”
Jane had to admire Raleigh’s acting ability, for even she was nearly taken in by the proprietary pride in his voice. Unfortunately, she knew it was all a hum.
“What’s that? Gad, you don’t mean she’s your wife?” the man said in startled accents. Lifting his quizzing glass once more, he studied Jane up and down in a way that made her want to shove the offending object down his throat.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t allow those in my home,” she said.
“Eh? What’s that?” Pimperington asked.
“The glass,” Jane said, louder, pointing. “It will have to go.” And then, ignoring Raleigh’s appreciative chuckle and his guest’s gasp of surprise, she swept past them both in the general direction of the dining hall. Behind her she heard Pimperington’s loud grumble. “What’s wrong with my glass?”
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